A familiar pang went through my chest, but it was only partly for the memories of Abigail de Souza. The other part—the bigger part—was for the grandmother who left this home behind, and didn’t take anything with her.
A chill skittered up my spine, rippling goose bumps on my arms. What happened to her? Why would someone who tended her garden so lovingly, showing the care she had for her home, not bring any of it with her went she left?
I passed into the dining room and bit hard on my lip at the plate and utensils on the place setting, and chair drawn out for someone to sit. I wanted out of here.
Now.
“Jennifer?” I raised my voice. “Jennifer, it’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here to help you. Please, if you can hear me, say something.”
Saloon doors led into the kitchen, and another swinging pair led the way out. I stepped into a hallway and my gaze followed the incline upstairs, then it dropped down to the door directly in front of me.
Basement.
Where would Jennifer be? What would a cold, smirking sociopath like Scott Cavendish do to coax out every drop of fear? Every ounce of helplessness?
I went into the basement.
“Jennifer?”
Feeling the wall, I searched for a light switch, brushed against something, and flipped it up. Nothing.
“Of course there’s nothing,” I muttered. “No one lives here. They cut off the power.”
I flicked my phone flashlight on instead, directing it into the gloom. The staircase ended at the bottom of a concrete floor. I felt the temperature dropping with each step I took. It was dark and freezing down here.
A washer and dryer came into sight. Beside them, a tipped-over laundry basket. This was a regular, run-of-the-mill basement like the normal home upstairs. Where was Jennifer supposed to be among this?
Climbing off the last step, I landed on the freezer placed unnaturally in the middle of the room. Secured with a padlock.
“Jennifer!” I sprang into action, yanking and pounding on the lock. “Jennifer, can you hear me?” The stubborn metal refused to give way.
Spinning around, I searched for something, anything, to break the lock. A wall of cabinets lined the back of the room.
“Hold on!”
I ripped the doors open and met with shelves of yarn, fabric, and craft supplies. Come on, come on, come on! There have to be tools. Every homeowner keeps a set of—
I burst into the second cabinet. A toolbox sat on its own on the second shelf as if waiting for me.
Grabbing it, I paused, snapping my head toward the ceiling. I listened hard.
For a second, I thought I heard a thump. Movement above.
Nothing. No sounds or bumps from above, or from the freezer.
I lifted the toolbox overhead and threw it on the floor. Tools skittered out, the hammer going flying, and I snatched it up without a skip in step. Wildly, I went at the lock.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A mangled heap of metal fell between my feet. I threw the freezer open and gasped—hands flying to my mouth.
A woman lay curled on a bed of fish sticks and peas, so peaceful she could be sleeping. A zip tie bound her wrists. Duct tape covered her mouth and stuck strands of hair to her face. Dark ebony lines on pale cheeks.
“Dog Day Afternoon,” I whispered.
I didn’t recognize the name. I wasn’t really listening while we did our little greeting warm-up. This was the girl who guessed my favorite movie. Who sat across from me eating and laughing while he watched.
“Jennifer?” I gently peeled the tape from her mouth. “Please, wake up. I’m sorry. I’m so s-sorry I was late.”
Crying, I bent to lift her. The least I could do was get her out of this disgusting hole of rotting food. She deserved so much more than this, and I didn’t tell her. Of all the women I’ve complimented and thanked over the weeks, I never made it to her. All the things I’d done that night, and that fact broke something deep inside me that’d never heal.
“He didn’t get away with it,” I whispered. “I hope that brings you peace—”
“Hmm.”
I choked, the rest of my farewell fading on my tongue.
Jennifer’s fingers twitched, then her legs. Stirring, her eyelids fluttered.
“Oh my goodness, you’re okay.” Something half laugh, half sob escaped me. “It’s okay. You’re safe—”
Thump.
I whipped around. That noise I heard clearly, and it came from in the room. I fixed on the stairs, and a pair of polished black loafers appeared on the landing.
“Hey!”
The shoes turned tail and raced off, disappearing through the doors.
I didn’t think, I ran.
Tearing up the stairs, I skidded into the hallway, slamming into the opposite wall. Pain zinged up my arm. The briefest flash of a black sole vanished around the corner into the kitchen.
“Hello?” a thin voice called from the basement. “Is someone there?”